The Screen That Held My Father’s Name

The platform fell dead silent, save for the low rumble of the idling train.

Vanessa stood twenty feet away, her red silk gown ruined by the rain, her mascara running down her cheeks. Her hands were shaking violently as she gripped a small silver revolver.

Isabella lowered her gun slightly, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

“Vanessa, darling,” Isabella mocked. “You really shouldn’t play with toys you don’t understand.”

“You lied to me,” Vanessa’s voice cracked. “You said you’d just keep the boy hidden. You promised me Luca would be mine!”

“I promised you safety,” Isabella corrected. “As long as you kept draining Luca’s accounts to fund my operation. But you got sloppy. You let a little maid find a cufflink.”

Vanessa shifted her aim. She pointed the gun at me.

“This is all your fault!” she screamed at me.

Luca moved instantly, placing his body between Vanessa and me, still shielding little Leo in his arms.

“Vanessa, drop it,” Luca ordered, his voice echoing with absolute authority.

Tommy took advantage of the distraction. He quickly grabbed the dropped knife from the guard he had knocked down and sliced through my father’s zip-ties.

My father groaned, rubbing his wrists, but he immediately stepped in front of Tommy.

“Shoot me, Vanessa,” Isabella taunted, taking a step toward her. “You don’t have the nerve.”

Vanessa’s finger tightened on the trigger.

But she didn’t shoot Isabella.

She turned the gun back toward Luca.

“If I can’t have the Moretti empire,” Vanessa sobbed, “neither will she. And neither will you.”

A gunshot rang out.

Deafening in the enclosed concrete tunnel.

I screamed.

But Luca didn’t fall.

Vanessa dropped the silver revolver. She looked down at her chest in shock. A blooming red stain spread across her white silk bodice.

She collapsed onto the wet concrete.

I turned.

My father was standing there, holding the gun he had just wrestled from the downed guard’s holster. His hand was perfectly steady.

The stroke hadn’t affected his trigger finger.

Isabella’s remaining men raised their weapons, but Luca was faster. He fired twice. Both men dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.

Isabella realized she was outnumbered.

She glared at Luca. “This isn’t over.”

She turned and sprinted onto the train just as the heavy doors slid shut. The massive engine lurched forward, slowly pulling out of the station.

We were left on the platform with two wounded guards and Vanessa, who lay gasping on the ground.

Luca set Leo down. “Emma, take him.”

I scooped the little boy into my arms. He buried his face in my neck. He smelled like cedar and cheap soap.

Luca walked over to Vanessa.

He knelt beside her.

She looked up at him, her breathing shallow.

“I... I loved you, Luca,” she gasped.

“No,” Luca said quietly. “You loved the crown.”

She closed her eyes and went still.

Sirens began to wail in the distance. The station security had finally called the police.

“We have to go,” my father said, leaning heavily on Tommy. The adrenaline was wearing off, and his bad leg was giving out.

“My safe house,” Luca said, taking charge. “In the Gold Coast. It’s off the books.”

We moved fast. We left the platform and piled into Luca’s armored SUV.

The drive was silent. The only sound was Leo’s soft breathing against my shoulder. He had fallen asleep, exhausted from the terror.

When we arrived at the sleek, modern penthouse safe house, Luca locked the heavy steel doors behind us.

We gathered in the living room.

Luca poured a glass of scotch and handed it to my father.

“Drink,” Luca said.

My father took a shaky sip.

Luca sat down opposite him. The mafia boss looked completely stripped of his armor. He looked at the boy sleeping on the sofa, covered by my jacket.

“Why, Thomas?” Luca asked, his voice breaking. “Why did you take my son?”

My father set the glass down.

“Because twenty-five years ago, I made a promise to your father,” my dad said. “I was his enforcer. I did terrible things for him. But when my wife died... when Emma and Tommy’s mother passed away, your father paid for the hospital bills. He paid off my house. He told me to walk away and be a dad.”

My father looked at me, tears welling in his tired eyes.

“I owed Lorenzo Moretti my life. Six years ago, I found out Vanessa was paying a clinic doctor to euthanize Clara’s baby. She wanted no heirs to threaten her position.”

Luca closed his eyes in agony.

“I got to the clinic first,” my father continued. “I paid the doctor to fake the death records. I took the boy. I couldn’t tell you, Luca. Because Isabella was already pulling the strings. If I brought the boy to you, they would have killed him, and probably you too.”

I sat beside my dad, holding his calloused hand.

“You raised him in the basement of the old church,” Luca realized.

“No,” my dad smiled softly. “I raised him in our apartment. He was a happy kid. I only moved him to the church when Vanessa started getting close.”

Leo stirred on the couch.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

He looked around the luxurious room, then his eyes landed on Luca.

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

“Pops told me to give this to you,” Leo said, his little voice echoing in the quiet room.

He walked over and handed it to Luca.